


Work (and Love) In Progress

by meanderingmirth



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7578715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanderingmirth/pseuds/meanderingmirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Uh, hey,” the tall, too tall, very much too tall (and very handsome) boy says as he looks down at Wonshik. “Are you… Wonshik? The editor I’m supposed to work with?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work (and Love) In Progress

**Author's Note:**

> behold, as promised on twitter (since April), the hyukvi college au :3c
> 
> enjoy!

 

“Honestly, I have no idea why you still make these things,” Hongbin says, waving the sheaf of paper Hakyeon is passing out as he tours around the empty third-year classroom. Wonshik accepts his with the eye-hand coordination of someone who’s just finished ten shots in a row and topped it all off with a beer; three hours of sleep tends to do that to a person.

“What are you saying?” Hakyeon asks, confused. “This is the year’s itinerary, you idiot.”

“Exactly,” Hongbin nods, placing the paper flat on his desk. “Which is, you know, something we literally  _never follow_.”

“I’ll have you know I spent two hours writing that up,” Hakyeon hisses, jabbing his pencil at Hongbin. “And I did  _not_  waste those two hours that I could’ve spent studying for my half-hour oral presentation for you to slander my hard work!”

Hongbin holds his hands up, a placating gesture, and grins. “I’m kidding, Hakyeon,” he says. “But you know we never actually stick to the proper schedule.”

“Yes,” Hakyeon replies through gritted teeth. He flicks his itinerary upright and glares at it, like the schedule has called him every offensive name known to man. “Which is why this year, we will have no tolerance for deviation. We are going to stick to this schedule, even if it  _kills_  us.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hongbin blasphemes under his breath, and Wonshik grimaces. If Hakyeon is already entering work mode for this year’s student-published creative writing publications before they’ve even received their submissions, he has a feeling it’s going to be a tough upcoming three months.

“By the way, where’s Jaehwan?” he yawns, pulling his beanie off to comb roughly at his limp, slightly greasy hair. “You said you wanted us to meet here at three o’clock, sharp.”

“Jaehwan? Probably on his way,” Hakyeon grumbles, pacing around the front of the classroom. “I texted him but he didn’t answer.”

“Oh, so your boyfriend is allowed to be late, but if Wonshik and I show up a minute later than three, you’ll quote unquote, _string us up by our toes and give us the worst wedgies of our lives_?” Hongbin says incredulously. “Talk about favouritism much.”

Hakyeon flashes him a truly terrifying smile, and Wonshik has half a mind to pack up his things and go before the two childhood friends could start their usual bloodbath banter, but Jaehwan, bless his soul, throws open the door at that exact moment and bustles in with a lot of noise, a lot of miscellaneous objects flapping around him, and most importantly, a tray of drinks from the café downstairs.

“Sorry I’m late! Traditional Chinese Fundamentals class ran way over schedule!” he shouts, tossing his rucksack into the empty seat beside Wonshik’s. “Got you poor dead people something before I ran up; the line was out the door too, can you believe it? We need a new plague. Anyway, here you go, my lovely honey buns, your ass looks fantastic in those jeans, by the way—”

Jaehwan plants a large soy milk latte into Hakyeon’s hands along with a smacking kiss onto his boyfriend’s cheek before waltzing over to Hongbin, who’s watching Hakyeon’s temper practically melt away with raised eyebrows and an amused grin.

“Hongbinnie, our team’s most beautiful flower, the editor all the girls want looking over their submissions, here is the perfect drink for you; a cherry blossom frap for the cherry blossom boy.”

“You sure you didn’t just pop out of poetry class instead of a Chinese lecture?” Hongbin snorts, but he accepts the cold drink regardless. Jaehwan snickers before skipping over to Wonshik. He sets a hot drink right in front of him, and Wonshik unfurls his stiff fingers, curling it around the cup with a groan.

“And for you, Wonshikkie, a piping hot black coffee with a shot of espresso,” Jaehwan winks. “Hopefully that’ll keep you awake for the next twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Jaehwan,” Wonshik mumbles, and cracks the cap off. A heavenly, brain-stimulating scent wafts up his nose and he inhales as much of it as he can.

“Alright, alright,” Hakyeon says, setting his cup down after taking a sip. “Now that we’re all present and properly refreshed, let’s start talking about the publication. Specifically, last year’s publication.”

“Let’s not,” Hongbin groans. Wonshik slumps over and covers his face with his hands. Hakyeon sniffs.

“I know that we had what ended up being a very disappointing final production and rather misfortunate situation at the launch party—”

“‘Misfortunate’?” Hongin repeats. “Try  _a fucking catastrophic disaster_ ; and for once I’m not even exaggerating my adjectives.”

Hakyeon closes his eyes. Jaehwan twirls his pencil, lower lip jutting out, and bounces his knee. Wonshik rolls the rim of his beanie down over his eyes and valiantly tries to block out all of the surfacing memories of last year’s launch party. He has a feeling the other three are doing their own version of willful forgetfulness too.

“Alright,” Hakyeon says, after taking a deep, deep breath. “After the  _fucking catastrophic disaster_  that was last year’s launch party, I think we all learned a really valuable lesson. Which is why, as editor-in-chief, I’ve come up with five very important rules we’re going to follow this year to ensure we never get a repeat of That Night.”

“Hit us with it,” Jaehwan calls, flipping his notebook open to a fresh page. Hakyeon nods and strolls over to the blackboard, selecting a piece of chalk.

“Firstly,” he says, scrawling the words out in near-illegible cursive. “We must absolutely check everything we submit to the printers, from beginning to end, and ensure that it is only the content we have selected that gets published.”

Wonshik nods. Hongbin is trying to dislodge a hunk of whipped cream from his straw.

“Secondly,” Hakyeon continues, writing underneath that. “ _We must absolutely check everything we submit to the printers, from beginning to end, and ensure that it is only the content we have selected that gets published_.”

“Better not forget that one,” Hongbin deadpans. Hakyeon sighs.

“Three, Jung Taekwoon, also known as ‘Leo’ on the  _Campus Daily_ , ‘Hongbin’s better half’ between the four of us, and ‘Bodyslamming Demon Lord Supreme’ by the rest of those present at last year’s launch, is summarily banned from attending this year’s party.”

“What?” Hongbin exclaims, but Hakyeon whips around and points at him.

“Do not. Get. Me. Started. On your boyfriend,” he breathes, danger in his voice, and Hongbin deflates.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he mumbles, and Hakyeon smiles. Wonshik thinks he’s seen people getting root canal look happier than Hakyeon.

“I am finding this a lot funnier than I should be,” Jaehwan whispers under his breath. Wonshik grunts.

“Yeah, but you have the worst sense of humor.”

“No, not the worst,” Jaehwan muses. “Just a horribly ironic one.” Wonshik can’t say he disagrees.

Hakyeon is talking and writing again. “Fourth rule: get all your edits in on time, keep in touch with your writers, and keep in mind rejected pieces are final,” Hakyeon says, tapping the board. “We’re not pity accepting any damn drafts, though with the reputation we made for ourselves last year I might have to break that last sub-rule. Also, if we don’t make submission counts, you three are ghostwriting for me again, you hear?”

“Aw, seriously?” Wonshik whines. “I already have four papers due before finals.”

“Then you better pray your ass off that we get enough people to submit their stories,” Hakyeon says grimly. “Last rule, and then we can get started on advertising for this shit. During the editing process, we are going to keep our relationships with our writers strictly professional. I’m limiting any meetings with them to on-campus locations during reasonable working hours. That means no dinner meet-ups, late-night chit-chats, or anything of that sort. And keep emails clear too, we don’t need any more misunderstandings.”

“Gotcha,” Jaehwan says, staring at the chalkboard. Hakyeon’s handwriting has disintegrated into what looks like random loops instead of real words. Their editor-in-chief turns back to them, and his face is a little softer this time.

“I want us all to have a good experience this year,” he says, placing the chalk back down. “We had a really rough time at the end of the last publication, and I don’t want that to taint your memories forever. Especially you, pretty boy Hongbinnie,” he adds, gently teasing, and Hongbin’s lower lip twitches, even if his expression is glum. “Whatever happened last year, it wasn’t your fault. And I want you to be able to shine this year, so let’s all work together and make it a success, alright?”

“Who died and made you the king of pep talks?” Hongbin jokes, but he’s smiling again, and so is Hakyeon.

“Listen, you don’t want to know what he did,” Jaehwan interrupts, and Wonshik shivers.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Hakyeon says, picking up his itinerary again. “Let’s actually go over the submission process and deadlines so we’re all clear on those, shall we?”

+

Wonshik’s been an editor for the university’s creative writing publications ever since he was but a lowly and unsuspecting first year who fell into a scheming Hakyeon’s recruitment clutches. Wonshik wholly blames Hongbin for this turn of events, because if Hongbin hadn’t referred him once to Hakyeon for help signing up for a humanities course, Hakyeon wouldn’t have known he wrote short stories in his spare time, and then he wouldn’t have roped Wonshik into a never-ending cycle of working his ass off editing other people’s short stories instead of his own. But he can’t say that it was a horrible experience overall, because Hakyeon has pushed him towards a bunch of writing classes soon after, where he and Hongbin hung out with Hakyeon and Jaehwan and eventually even got Hongbin hitched to one of Hakyeon’s friends on the school paper, Taekwoon, thus solidifying their little circle of friendship and mutual hatred for certain things, like the pre-med students that always jam the printer or the liberal arts majors that sneak into their workshop rooms to nap when all the couches in the Varsity Lounge are full.

Then again, last year’s launch party fiasco did happen, so maybe Wonshik would’ve been better off scribbling away at his own stories in the little nook under the stairs of in the Arts Building.

He was in his dorm a few days later, trying to piece together the conclusion for his rhetoric essay when his phone pings loudly, cheerfully alerting him of a message.

Groaning, Wonshik crawls out of his manmade cave of books, papers, and snack wrappers to pick up the charging device.

It’s Hakyeon. Typical.

_hey come down to the health centre and help me put posters for short story submissions up!!!!_

Wonshik squints, about to answer, but his phone pings again as Hakyeon sends another message.

_dinner’ll be on me :)))))_

...damn the man.

Ten minutes later, he’s jogging down to the small building adjacent to the larger student centre, where students were playing loud music and eating wonderfully greasy takeout food at the patio tables outside. He spots Hakyeon hovering by the doorway, a large folder tucked under his arms and gigantic sunglasses covering half of his face, and hurries over.

“Hey,” he pants, bumping his shoulder against Hakyeon’s in greeting. “Are those the posters?”

“Yup,” Hakyeon grins, opening the flap to show Wonshik a stack of brightly coloured recruitment advertisements. “I asked Eunji to run them off for me before she went to class.”

“Why didn’t you go print them yourself?” Wonshik asks as they head inside the building. It’s significantly quieter than the student centre, which consists of a food court and lounge and is generally where the loudest and most obnoxious crowds manage to congeal.

“She’s in the Digital Arts program,” Hakyeon says. “They get free colour printing  _and_  has access to the high-speed printers during peak hours.”

“Oh. And how much are you gonna owe her for this, exactly?”

Hakyeon grimaces and pushes his sunglasses further up his nose. “Let’s just say she doesn’t have to buy her own meal tonight either,” he grumbles. “Or for the next two weeks.”

Wonshik clucks his tongue. “Was it worth it?” he asks, and Hakyeon glowers at him.

“You better hope it is, Kim Wonshik,” Hakyeon snarks in a tone that could only be described as bitchy. "Because if this doesn’t fly, guess who’s gonna be writing for our publication on the down low, hm?”

Wonshi has never shut his mouth faster after that.

The on-campus doctor’s office is located at the back of the health building, and at the front are a few lumpy couches and tables for quiet study. There are a few girls burrowed into brick-like textbooks at the far end of the room and there is a guy sleeping soundly on the couch, his stats book open on his chest. They squeeze past another guy copying notes at one of the tables and trot over to the neglected bulletin board mounted on the wall.

“Why can’t you pick more popular locations?” he moans. “Nobody ever comes here. Only sick people do, and they’re not in the mood to read anything.”

“Well, you’re gonna need a whole lot of connections to get these things hung up elsewhere,” Hakyeon snaps. “And I’m not calling in a bunch of favours just to secure a bunch of flimsy papers in a prime location when half of the applicants we get thinks creative writing is a bird course.”

Wonshik looks over the limp adverts for roommates, the sexual health information pamphlets that look like they haven’t been updated in ten years, and some shady essay writing company’s business cards tacked up.

“I guess I better polish off my old stories,” he sighs, forlorn. “D’you think that sci-fi one about immortal clones might work?”

“What,  _Rebirth_?” Hakyeon asks, slapping one of the posters over several pre-existing ones. “Sure, if we’re really in a pinch. Have you actually finished that story, or did you leave it at that horribly ambiguous ending?”

“I left it at the horribly ambiguous ending,” Wonshik says, and Hakyeon tuts loudly.

“You can do better than that,” he says matter-of-factly, tongue poking out of his mouth as he presses the tacks into the board. “Use your brain! Craft a good ending!”

“I would if I had actual time to do my own writing,” Wonshik complains as Hakyeon gives the poster on last pat.

“Excuses, excuses,” Hakyeon smirks. “Maybe if you actually plucked up your courage to finish that story, we can do something with it.”

“Writers are inherently lazy bastards,” Wonshik deadpans, trailing after Hakyeon as his friend starts to walk away. “Don’t you know that?”

His foot catches on the leg of a chair as he passes, and Wonshik almost trips, cursing as he hops back into position. The horrible scraping sound of metal on tile echoes around the health centre, earning him a few dirty glares from the girls in the corner of the room and a startled look from the guy at the table, who happened to sit in the chair Wonshik had just stumbled over.

“My bad,” he says weakly, ducking his head quickly in apology. The guy just blinks at him, sporting the brain-dead look of someone who’s been buried in their homework for way too long.

“It’s fine,” he murmurs, and turns back to his notebook before Wonshik could say anything else. He feels Hakyeon’s hand at his elbow, tugging, and he falls back into step.

Before he leaves, he shoots one last look behind him. To his surprise, the guy is looking away from them and towards the bulletin board, where their colour poster is practically a shining beacon standing out amongst the old advertisements. But then he goes through the doorway, and Hakyeon is talking again.

“Alright, next stop is the psych labs,” he says, patting the folder absent-mindedly. Wonshik groans again, louder now that they’re outside.

“ _Seriously_? The labs are in the  _basement_ , Hakyeon.”

Hakyeon shoots him an award-winning smile over his shoulder before strutting away, pace so brisk Wonshik has to run to catch up.

“Like I said,” Hakyeon hums, unnaturally cheerful for a man who is facing the very real possibility of another failed book launch. “Better start thinking about that ending of yours.”

Wonshik puts his face in his hands and resits the urge to wail.

+

He manages to forget about the short story recruitment for a week because of the external pressures of courses, professors that could care less if he sleeps for two hours or twenty on a daily basis and through a sheer force of will usually associated with getting out of bed and scrambling to make it to that midterm you’ve very nearly slept through. Don’t think about negative things, his mom used to tell him. Always focus on the good and move on from there.

That might’ve worked if all the bad stuff didn’t keep on catching up with him.

He gets a text from Hakyeon on a Friday afternoon, in all caps, which could only mean one thing.

_SHORT STORY SUBMISSIONS ARE OFFICIALLY CLOSED!!!! 150 SUBMISSIONS ON THE DOT SO WE’RE IN THE CLEAR!! NO GHOSTWRITING NEEDED!!!!_

Wonshik slumps against the desk in the silent study zone at the library, huffing out a sigh of relief. His assignment outline flutters away from him, and he snatches at it before it could fall onto the floor. When he looks back, there’s another message, this time from Hongbin.

_hey im guessing you saw Hakyeon’s message. thank whatever god exists people actually submitted, though Jaehwan said it might’ve been notorious publicity after what happened last year. anyway, i asked Taekwoon if we could borrow one of the campus paper’s meeting rooms to do a quick read through, so come out on sunday at 2 we can do a very fast round of elimination together_

His phone pings once more as he finishes reading Hongbin’s message. It’s an email from Hakyeon with a pdf file attached. Chewing his lip in trepidation, Wonshik opens the preview and peeks at the page count.

150 stories.

325 pages.

All that, before Sunday at 2pm.

He shoves his face into his grammar textbook and reminds himself that screaming like a Hakyeon watching a horror movie is definitely prohibited in the library.

+

Hongbin meets him in the hall on the second floor of the Communications Building the following Sunday afternoon, outside where  _Campus Daily_  shares an office with Beat The Beat, the campus radio.

“Did you finish reading everything?” Hongbin asks, grinning as Wonshik stumbles over with his backpack and a tray of drinks from the bubble tea store around the block.

“Skimmed the last forty pages,” he groans, watching Hongbin swipe Taekwoon’s card through the scan on the doorway. Hongbin makes a noise of agreement before pushing it open. It’s warm inside the office, with the sounds of various devices pouring out music and clashing against one another. The small place is bustling with busy activity, like a beehive.

“Oh, it’s Wonshik and Hongbin!” Eunkwang says brightly as he skids to a half in front of them, a tablet and coffee in hand. “Is it that time of year again?”

“Yup,” Wonshik says, rubbing at his eyes. “We’re doing the pre-selection editorial grind.”

Eunkwang clucks his tongue sympathetically. “Good luck,” he says. “At least you have a good turnout this year, so that’s a bonus, right?”

“Possibly,” Hongbin replies. “We still have to do our selections, but I’m sure that will go by quickly. It’s the editing process that’ll probably take some time.”

“Well, I shan’t hold you up then,” Eunkwang grins. “Don’t hesitate to ask us for anything while you’re here!”

“Thanks man,” Wonshik says, grateful, and waves to Hyunsik and Peniel inside the recording room as they pass, the bright red ON AIR sign illuminating the doorway. Hongbin scans Taekwoon’s card again, and they trudge out of the radio station and into the half of the office belonging to the paper. Taekwoon was sitting in one of the two meeting rooms, typing away at his laptop. He looks up and nods at Wonshik when he walks in.

“Hey,” Wonshik says, dropping his stuff down into the cushy office chairs. Hongbin is already helping himself to the bubble tea, passing Taekwoon his mango black iced tea with tapioca.

“Thanks,” Taekwoon says happily, as he always is when there’s a combination of food and his boyfriend standing in front of him, and tugs Hongbin down for a little kiss that makes Wonshik groan and Hongbin blush.

“That’s a dollar in the PDA jar,” he complains, lobbing one of the straws at Taekwoon’s arm.

“You are so grouchy today,” Hongbin snickers, hip-checking him into the table as he passes. Wonshik whines as he straightens himself.

“It’s not fair, you guys always flaunt your cute-ass relationship shit whenever I’m around and rub it in my face.”

“Grouchy  _and_  bitter,” Hongbin laughs, setting up his laptop in the middle of the table. “Well, you better make yourself comfortable, because Hakyeon and Jaehwan aren’t coming in; they want to Skype us from their apartment instead.”

“I swear to god,” Wonshik protests loudly, but Hongbin is already calling Hakyeon and their editor-in-chief picks up in less than a second.

“Hi,” Hakyeon’s voice says from the laptop, and the image on the screen jostles and blurs into a mess of confusing colourful pixels. “Wait, fuck, this god damn fucking disappointment of an electronic invention—” and then the connection goes bad and the little loading circle appears on the screen before it jumps to a proper view of Hakyeon and Jaehwan, both of whom were cuddled up on a bed with blankets and pillows and snacks.

“Finally,” Hakyeon sighs, and Jaehwan pats his arm comfortingly. Oh, the difficulties of modern day technology.

“I am so glad our editor-in-chief takes the time to uphold his professional work appearance,” Wonshik says sarcastically.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the phrase ‘working from home’?” Hakyeon retorts, snuggling down into his pillow fort.

“Jaehwan could’ve at least made an effort to fix his sex hair.”

“True,” Hakyeon admits. “But I like that look on him, so no go. Anyway, we’re not here to talk about how great Jaehwan is in bed—”

Hongbin and Wonshik groan in unison while Jaehwan beams and sparkles.

“—we need to sort out our top fifteen picks for this year’s publication. I hope you guys made a list of your favourites.”

“To be honest, the last twenty submissions or so sort of just blurred together for me,” Jaehwan pipes up. Wonshik agrees.

“Fair enough, I didn’t really expect any of you to actually finish reading it,” Hakyeon quips, shuffling some papers.

“Seriously?” Wonshik asks, incredulous. “Why didn’t you say so? I could’ve finished my reflective essay last night instead.”

“Oh my god, Wonshik. Why do you think we keep on publishing the stories that show up in the first half of our submission file?” Hakyeon says, with the air of a very tired parent explaining something to a very slow child.

“Just when I thought the integrity of our publication couldn’t get any lower,” Hongbin remarks, sipping on his strawberry slush. Wonshik also agrees.

“What makes you think we had any integrity to begin with?” Hakyeon asks, far too serious for Wonshik’s liking. “I took over after one of the senior editors got arrested for trying to streak at our school’s dentistry program fair. The  _dentistry_ fair, can you believe it? It wasn’t even at something cool.”

“Wow, we actually suck,” Wonshik says, rubbing his temples, and garners three more hums of total agreement.

“Anyway, let’s get this started so we can all pack up and go before four o’clock, because if I have to read another sob story about how some twenty-two year old shut-in is still sad over their dog’s death back in sixth grade, I might actually rip my own eyeballs out,” Hakyeon says. “But first!” He swivels around to look pointedly at Taekwoon, who dutifully ignores Hakyeon until Hongbin nudges him.

“...Yes?” Taekwoon finally says, looking up. Hakyeon crosses his arms.

“You know the rules, Taekwoonie. No outsiders allowed during the selection process! This is a confidential meeting!”

Taekwoon manages to look wholly offended with just a slight twitch of his brows. “You can’t ban me from both the launch  _and_  your meetings,” he complains. “That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, honey,” Hakyeon glowers, jabbing his pen at them. “Go take a pee break for two hours.”

“I haven’t seen Hongbin in a week because you keep on commandeering him from me to advertise for the publication since his face is ‘good for business’, as you put it,” Taekwoon grumbles, but he’s already stacking up his notes.

“It’s called a hustle, sweetheart,” Hakyeon chirps, and Hongbin mutters something about never taking Hakyeon to see a Disney movie ever again while Wonshik says, “How come you didn’t ask me to help advertise? Are you saying my face isn’t good enough to attract floating writers around campus?”

“Wonshik, you had four assignments due. You didn’t shower  _for_  a week,” Hakyeon says, actually looking pained.

“True,” Wonshik admits, cracking his knuckles. “Fair enough, moving on.”

“We can once Taekwoon shuffles his cute butt out the door.”

“Just go get a lunch,” Hongbin interrupts, before Taekwoon could start hissing at Hakyeon. “And go pet one of the therapy dogs, or something.”

“That I will do without being asked,” Taekwoon sniffs, and shuts his laptop before strolling out the door. Once it closes behind him with a click, Hakyeon clucks his tongue and flips open his notebook.

“Okay. Why don’t we start off with our top picks and see which ones overlap?”

As much as Wonshik likes to bitch and complain about working for the publication and how he’s read more engaging stories written by five year olds, there is something just a little bit magical about sneaking a peak into a portion of someone’s life or imagination, to see what they’ve decided to write and show to the world in the hopes of sharing their experiences or the faraway, fantastical lands they’ve dreamed up of.

Or maybe that’s just the five cans of Redbull from last night talking.

Through a lot of back and forths, content discussion and grammar dissing, they narrow down their lists to twenty good stories that they all agree on within an hour and a half, which is on the same level of witnessing Moses’ miracle, or whatever.

“I’d say we should keep that chess story or whatever,” Hongbin says, running his highlighter down the page. “It’s better than that boarding house story where the dude rooms with like twenty-four other people, or something.”

“He didn’t room with twenty-four people, Binnie, there were six of them and they were all twenty-four years old,” Jaehwan corrects, and Hongbin frowns.

“Okay, if I can’t remember a fact that simple, we are not keeping it for sure.”

“Strike it from the list then,” Hakyeon instructs.

“And don’t forget the sound effects,” Jaehwan adds, eager, and Wonshik sighs, grabbing Hongbin’s electric pink sparkly gel pen of doom. Jaehwan dubbed it that after Hakyeon used it to attack a drunken freshman trying to break into their booked study room during an 11pm cram session last year. He still has nightmares of the bright pink heart at the end getting shoved up that poor kid’s nose.

Uncapping the pen, Wonshik twirls it with an extremely lazy kind of flourish before following it up with a horrendous noise.

“AIEEEE,” he half-shrieks, half-says in monotone, and slashes the title  _Boarding House 24_  off the list with the lowest amount of enthusiasm possible.

“Must you lot continue to imitate my scream of distress?” Hakyeon complains. “I didn’t sound like that.”

“You do scream much higher than Wonshik,” Hongbin muses, and Hakyeon rolls his eyes.

“Okay, okay, last two! Last two!” Jaehwan says excitedly, nearly upsetting the precariously balanced laptop on his knees. “I’m gonna do the voice.”

“ _Don’t_  do the voice,” Hakyeon says, and is largely ignored.

“Aaand in this corner, sitting at a word count of two thousand and twelve, four pages of unbridled, uncut, law-breaking real grit, we have  _Chasing_ , the story of some kid who nicked something from a cop when he was in high school and had to make a run for it! As far as we know, he still hasn’t been caught! Why he would submit something like this to a public publication, I have no idea! But while I don’t want to be responsible for ruining someone’s life, I also don’t want to be an accomplice in the crime by withholding evidence from the police!”

“Fucking hell,” Hakyeon says, covering his eyes.

“Whatever the other one is, we’re taking it,” Wonshik says vehemently, shaking his head. For some reason, the content of the story sounds oddly familiar, so he grabs his phone from his pocket and pulls up his browser. Meanwhile, Jaehwan continues reading.

“Aaand in the other corner, sitting at a word count of exactly three thousand and one, it’s one of those annoying stories that has one single sentence that you can’t get rid off and now it runs onto another page, so you have to pay another fifteen cents when you get the whole thing printed at the library! Honestly, if we take this story this dude now owes me that extra fifteen cents! Behold, a work of fine literary art, it’s called  _Don’t Forget To Love Yourself_!”

“Isn’t there some preteen pop song that goes by that name as well?” Hongbin frowns. Jaehwan shrugs.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Well, check up on that, I don’t want to get sued,” Hakyeon says.

“If we do, at least that’s a cooler story than the dentistry fair streaker,” Wonshik offers, and Hakyeon gives him The Tired Look.

“What’s it about, anyway?” Hongbin asks. “Is this the one about the kid who took judo?”

“I think so,” Hakyeon nods. “Something about a sports injury and flunking out of some really important match. It’s actually not so bad, even if it did eat up fifteen cents from Jaehwan’s bank account.”

“For the record, I have like twenty-five bucks left to my name,” Jaehwan adds. “Please feed me.”

“It sounds kind of typical for a story,” Hongbin says. “But the other story sounds a bit over the top too.”

“So I guess it’s a toss up between playing it safe or trying our luck with a really weird one then, eh?” Hakyeon hums.

“Um,” Wonshik says, eyes fixated on the Wiki page on his phone. “I’m gonna make an executive decision for all of you and say we’re taking  _Don’t Forget To Love Yourself_ , because I just found something pretty important.”

“What’s that?” Hakyeon asks. Wonshik holds his phone up, and angles it so his screen could be seen by all three of his friends.

“The story  _Chasing_  we got is almost an exact copy of the plot of some summer blockbuster released almost eight years ago,” he says grimly.

“Son of a bitch,” Jaehwan curses, eyebrows arching. Hakyeon huffs angrily.

“So, in other words—”

“Yup. Its plagiarized,” Wonshik nods, and everybody exchanges glances. Hongbin wordlessly hands the pink pen over to Wonshik, and Jaehwan gives him a solemn nod. Even Hakyeon looks like he’s okay-ing this, though he might just be sick of living in general.

“AIEEEEEE,” Wonshik says, and strikes out the unholy name of the blackened work that has desecrated their sacred list of submissions.

And thus, pre-selection editorial grind comes to an end with fifteen chosen stories at 4:16pm on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

+

They divide the total number of stories between all four of them, and though it’s uneven, they each pick up three stories to edit alongside the writer. Unsurprisingly, Jaehwan has a soft spot for Hakyeon, and is wheedled into taking an extra fourth story in addition to his three.

Hakyeon gets the hard job of filtering through fifteen people’s emails alongside CC’ing the corresponding editors to each congratulatory message, alerting the recipients of the publication’s decision to publish their story in the upcoming collection. When Wonshik makes it back up to his dorm with takeout in hand, he deposits his food on his desk and flops face first onto his mattress, sighing blissfully. He pulls his phone out and opens his email. In his inbox are three new messages, all of them from Hakyeon containing the same spiel about the qualifications of their publication (like they have any), the editorial process that will go on for the next three weeks (like they’ll actually follow that deadline), and Hakyeon’s full contact information alongside their editorial collective’s emails (it is a known fact that Hakyeon will not answer any messages unless he personally deems it of the utmost importance).

He skims through the first two messages, both of which were stories he actually remembers reading. The last message is sent to one Han Sanghyuk— the author of  _Don’t Forget To Love Yourself_.

_Hello Sanghyuk,_

_Congratulations!_

_The editorial collective of this year’s 2016-2017 short story publication are pleased to inform you that your story, “Don’t Forget To Love Yourself”, has been chosen as a finalist and for publishing._

_We will begin with content editing over the next three weeks. Kim Wonshik, one of our third-year editors and a masterful writer within the creative writing program, will be working with you on your story. He will be in touch with you soon._

Wonshik snickers as he kicks his shoes off, making himself comfortable on the bed. Hakyeon once got so fed up with editing a story of his he told Wonshik that an illiterate penguin could formulate a more structured plot than he could. 

_The deadline for the content editing segment of our work period is Friday, March 1st. Thereinafter, we will be moving on to the copy editing phase._

_We look forwards to working with you this year!_

_Sincerely,_

_Cha Hakyeon_

_Editor-in-Chief, 2016-2017_

Yawning, Wonshik turns over and fumbles over the edge of his bed for the charger, plugs his phone in, and plonks the device onto his nightstand for a quick charge. Now that they’ve really got this publication thing going underway, he’s going to catch a few extra  _zzz_ ’s before schoolwork also comes rolling in to kick his ass.

Ten minutes later, as Wonshik is already snoring into the crease of his pillow, his phone’s bright ping goes unnoticed as a reply is made to the email Hakyeon sent to the author of  _Don’t Forget To Love Yourself._

+

Of the three writers he’s assigned to, one of them lives nearly an hour and a half away off campus, and the other is neck-deep in a six-course semester whilst trying to funnel their application into law school, so they’ve quickly come to the agreement to do edits through email and through an online word document. Wonshik doesn’t particularly mind; while tracking comments and changes could get confusing, it saves everybody the trouble of having to set aside time to their busy schedules.

The only person who did want to meet up with Wonshik was Sanghyuk, who actually lived on campus, in the second-year building next to the Forensics Department. He’s agreed to meet Wonshik at the café in the Comms Building, which is also perfectly okay by him— the ghost stories Hakyeon likes to tell him about the Forensics building have unfortunately ingrained themselves deep into his subconscious with the same tenacity as Hakyeon’s favourite back hugs.

He hovers awkwardly at the doorway of the shop, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he scans the general population of the school milling about, some on their way to class and others either heading home or off to get food. He’s messaged Sanghyuk telling him to look for the guy in the bright yellow jumper, with is by far the most effective way to identify him in a throng of people. Find the guy who dresses like a giant banana; you can’t miss him.

Five minutes before one, someone finally approaches him.

“Uh, hey,” the tall, too tall, very much too tall (and very handsome, Wonshik immeidately notices) boy says as he looks down at Wonshik. “Are you... Wonshik? The editor I’m supposed to work with?”

“Y-yeah,” Wonshik stammers, quickly shoving his phone into his pocket as he sticks his hand out for a shake. “Sanghyuk, right?”

“Yup,” Sanghyuk grins, pumping Wonshik’s arm up and down with an extraordinary amount of strength. He’s broad-shouldered and long-limbed, the definition of muscle evident underneath the tight jeans and rolled-up sleeves of his fitted shirt. His hair is just as bleached as Wonshik’s, so blond it nearly looks white, though there’s black showing at the bottom of his slight undercut. There’s also something about the way his eyes that seems strangely familiar, though it’s not until Sanghyuk does a rather cute little blink that turns on the metaphorical lightbulb in Wonshik’s head.

“You’re the guy that was studying in the health centre!” he blurts out, and Sanghyuk laughs, a huge grin on his face.

“Yup,” he says again. “I was wondering if you’d notice.”

“I almost didn’t,” Wonshik confesses, scratching the back of his neck. “But then—” He catches himself, right before he says something dumb like  _I recognized the cute way you blink_  and clears his throat quickly. “But then I did,” he finishes, a little lamely. Fortunately, Sanghyuk doesn’t seem to notice.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking to meet up in person,” he says, opening the door for Wonshik as they walked into the café. “I’m totally okay with editing through email if you’re busy or anything, but I just wanted to meet face to face, just so we can discuss the story in real time without the delay of sending everything online.”

“It’s always good to edit in person,” Wonshik nods fervently. “But I understand time and location is always an issue, so we have to work with what we’ve got. Besides, I want to do what’s best for your story.”

“Thanks,” Sanghyuk chuckles, pushing one of the seats back. He folds himself down in the tiny chair neatly, and Wonshik can sympathize with the difficulties of trying to jam his lanky frame into dainty little tables and toothpick-legged chairs. He isn’t short by any means, but Sanghyuk definitely has a few centimetres on him.

“Did you know that I actually submitted my story because I overhead you and your friend talking when you guys put up that poster in the health centre?” Sanghyuk asks suddenly. “I didn’t even know we had a student-published collection of short stories released every year. I actually went and looked some of them up; there are some pretty good stories in there.”

“D-did you?” Wonshik asks, sweating slightly. “That’s cool. I’m glad you took an interest in it.”

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk nods, peering at the menu board by behind the counter. “I couldn’t find last year’s book in the library archives though; there wasn’t even a copy in the system?”

“W-well,” Wonshik coughs, and then quickly says, “Hey, are you hungry?”

“Eh?” Sanghyuk says— and there he is, doing that adorable little blink again. Wonshik thinks his heart actually seizes up at the sight. “Oh, no, I’m good—”

“I’ll get you a coffee,” Wonshik offers. “It’s cool, I used to tutor the barista in some first year language fundamentals class; he gives me discounts.”

“Oh wow. Well, if you’re offering,” Sanghyuk grins, cheeky, and Wonshik’s knees almost melts as he stumbles away from the table, clutching weakly at the front of his sweater.

Holy fuck, Han Sanghyuk was hot  _and_  cute.

He stumbles back five minutes later, two cups of piping hot coffee in hand, and the way Sanghyuk perks up and accepts the drink practically tugs at his heartstrings. It’s an effect he’s come to realize is quite similar to the way Taekwoon dotes on small children and cute dogs with an unbridled sense of adoration and love, except with Sanghyuk it’s less like puppy love and more like  _this guy is hella cute and good-looking and I kind of want to take him out on a date_. And Wonshik almost does say those words out loud; he’s always been a spontaneous kind of guy, and even if it’ll jack his core body temperature way up just thinking about asking Sanghyuk out right now, he’ll do it.

It’s not until Sanghyuk cheerfully digs out his notebook alongside a printed version of his story and says, “Man, I’m really glad you’re my editor, Wonshik. I can’t wait to start working on my story,” that some horribly familiar words come floating back at him, effectively dragging his post-editing plans down into a flaming crash-landing.

 _During the editing process, we are going to keep our relationships with our writers strictly professional,_  Hakyeon had said. His expression had been grim. His words, though illegible on the chalkboard, had defined through a better verbal version and outlined their working partnerships with this year’s writers quite clearly.

Wonshik gulps and hides his worried expression behind his cup while Sanghyuk brushes his bangs away from his face, long fingers showing off how they adorn a variety of metal rings quite coolly.

Of course he’d fall head over heels for the first writer he meets up with in person when they’d all expressly agreed to keep their working relationships professional in the aftermath of last year’s launch. Wonshik kind of wants to slap himself on the face.

Then Sanghyuk lifts his pencil to his lips, prodding at his mouth absent-mindedly as he thinks, and Wonshik’s grasp on his cup has progressed to what could only be described as a death grip by now.

He’s doomed.

+

He usually sits in on Hongbin’s Thursday Writing Theory lectures, but their class was cancelled on this particular day, which meant that Hongbin was definitely going to drag Taekwoon off campus to one of their weird hipster, nature-y dates, which usually involves them returning at weird hours of the night while bringing strange, miscellaneous objects along with them. Sometimes it’s pretty rocks, other times it’s an evil-warding garden gnome the size of a small cabinet that Hakyeon swears is actually eviler than any malicious spirit. Once, Wonshik caught them trying to sneak an entire goldfish tank into Taekwoon’s room. To this day, he’s still not quite sure what that was for, or if those two have kept it.

Because Wonshik is a normal guy with a normal routine and is painfully, obviously, sadly single, he goes to the gym for the workout he’s been neglecting ever since Hakyeon dropped the three hundred plus pages of creative fiction on them. It’s time to make up for it with a gallon of sweat and aching muscles.

But the universe is either against his painfully, obviously, sadly single ass, or perhaps Hakyeon was right and that damn gnome is creepier than Wonshik originally thought, because just as he steps out of the change room showers, he runs right into Sanghyuk just as the sophomore is exiting his stall.

“Oh, hey man, what’s up?” Sanghyuk grins as Wonshik nearly drops his bag. He scrambles to drag his things back up whilst keeping a firm grip on the towel around his waist and hastily returns the greeting.

“W-were you just working out?” Wonshik stammers, very determinedly keeping his gaze on Sanghyuk’s rather cute button nose.

“Yup, Thursdays are my usual workout days,” Sanghyuk says brightly, towelling off his damp hair with a blue cloth. “What about you? I don’t normally see you here at this time.”

“My friend went on a date and I usually hang with him at this time,” Wonshik admits, struggling to keep his stuff from spilling off the bench.

“Aw,” Sanghyuk says, sympathetic. “You can’t join in and make it a double date?”

Wonshik’s heart pounds in his ears at the comment, and just as he’s about to garble out some answer, Sanghyuk pulls out his clothes to start dressing, so he quickly spins around to give the other some privacy.

“Unfortunately, no,” he says, fumbling with his boxers and pants. He drags his top back on just as Sanghyuk’s head pops through the hole of a fluffy white sweater. He shakes his hair out of his eyes and Wonshik has to struggle between melting over the sheer amount of adorableness and going weak-kneed at the fact that the neck of Sanghyuk’s sweater is V-shaped, plunging down past his collarbones, and he is Very Obviously not wearing anything underneath it.

“Shame,” Sanghyuk teases, elbowing him lightly. “Hey, does that mean you’ll have time this afternoon to look over some of the edits I made based on what you said last time? I was just going to scan them, but since you’re here...”

Wonshik doesn’t know what expression showed on his face, because Sanghyuk backtracks a little, looking a tad bit anxious. “It’s fine if you can’t,” he begins, but Wonshik mentally scrubs away whatever constipated scrunch he must’ve turned his face into to force down a blush.

“No! No, I’d be happy to check out your edits,” he says quickly. “Should we go somewhere for a bite to eat? I can see what you’ve written since there.”

“Oh, sure,” Sanghyuk replies, smiling again. “Let’s go to the pub! It’s Tuna Melt Thursdays today.”

“You like Tuna Melts too?” Wonshik asks, feeling a little faint. Sanghyuk chortles, slinging a black bag over his shoulder. Charms dangle from the the zipper, and Wonshik spies a little Chopper figurine and a Naruto keyring. He has a feeling Sanghyuk would definitely get along with Jaehwan.

“Are you kidding? Who doesn’t?” the younger asks, striding confidently towards the exit of the change room, and Wonshik wonders if it’s possible for his heart to dissolve out of sheer, utter attraction.

+

Sanghyuk is a good writer. He’s only taken the introductory level creative writing class, but it’s evident that he’s got years of writing experience under his belt, most likely through his own practice or through other means. But he’s also a communications major, so Wonshik guesses he’s come into contact with various ways of tweaking and editing writing until it’s engaging and readable as well.

Being able to hang out with Sanghyuk and shamelessly ogle him from time to time aside, Wonshik’s really glad they chose this story. And between casual exchanges over their edits and hanging out with each other at the library during breaks and complaining loudly about a professor they share while standing in line at the sandwich shop, Wonshik knows he’s absolutely smitten and there’s nothing he can do about it.

They’re curled up on the sofas upstairs in the student lounge together a week later, feet propped up on the coffee table and papers placed on every flat surface available. The electric fire is burning brightly in the fireplace and rain is pattering lightly against the window, ushering the night in early.

He glances up from time to time, watching Sanghyuk twirl his pencil between his fingers as he marks up a thick fifty-page stack of assigned readings he’d apparently neglected to do during the week. His bangs are bunched up with a little pink clip Wonshik loaned him, and the image is both silly and absolutely endearing. Yet he’s also lounging on the armchair with his legs splayed open, lazily sticking out onto whatever available space is left for all six feet of him, and Wonshik has to quickly divert his eyes every time he feels he’s been starting at Sanghyuk’s thighs for too long.

God damn, those were some nice thighs though.

He’s in the process of daydreaming about what it might be like to straddle those thighs, perhaps, and feel Sanghyuk’s hands on his waist, holding him steady while he smiles up at Wonshik, eyes curving into those attractive half-moons with the scrunchy corners, when a pair of hands clap down on his shoulders without warning and startles a high-pitched scream from him.

“God!” Hakyeon screams back, leaping away from the sofa. “What the hell, Wonshik!”

“I should be the one saying that to you!” Wonshik chokes, grabbing at the front of his sweater. “Why would you sneak up on me like that!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Hakyeon complains, whacking him lightly on the back of his head. “I just happened to see you here and came up to say hi.”

“R-right,” Wonshik wheezes. He glances over at Sanghyuk, who’s watching the exchange with wide eyes. Some of his papers have spilled onto the floor; Wonshik has a feeling the poor kid dropped them when he screamed. “Sanghyuk, this is Hakyeon, our editor-in-chief. Hakyeon, this is Sanghyuk. You know,  _Don’t Forget To Love Yourself_?”

“Oh!” Hakyeon says, eyes lighting up at once, bickering immediately forgotten. “Nice to meet you! It’s good to see the two of you editing together!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Sanghyuk replies, reaching out to shake Hakyeon’s hand. “I live on campus, so it was convenient for the both of us to meet, so we did.”

“Fantastic,” Hakyeon beams, and Wonshik’s actually surprised by how happy his friend is. “I am so excited for this year’s publication, really. Everything is going so well; we’re progressing with our editors both online and in person! I can’t wait to see the finalized drafts and submit them for copy editing.”

“Me too,” Sanghyuk grins. “It’ll be my first time publishing a creative story.”

“Perfect,” Hakyeon gushes. “We’re hounoured you decided to submit your story to us. And I’m so glad I assigned Wonshik for your piece, he’s such a hard worker. His focus is insane when he’s into something, right, Wonshik?”

“Sure,” Wonshik answers, fidgeting. Hakyeon laughs, clapping him fondly on the shoulder.

“He’s the type of person you’d have to drag away from the table and force him into a blanket burrito before he could collapse from overwork,” Hakyeon tells Sanghyuk, grinning. “But really, there’s no one I trust more on the team than Wonshik.”

And the worst part is, Wonshik thinks miserably, looking between his editor-in-chief and the biggest crush of his life, Hakyeon isn’t even being sarcastic with his praise, and now he’s swallowing down something that feels awfully like guilt.

Sanghyuk is grinning back as he nods. “Well, he’s definitely helped me out a lot. I’m looking forwards to the launch date.”

“Me too,” Hakyeon replies, nudging Wonshik in the shoulder. He laughs weakly and looks back down at his papers. “Anyway, it’s getting late, I should get going. Don’t stay out too long, you two!  _Especially_  you,” he adds viciously, jabbing Wonshik in the side. He yelps and flinches away spectacularly. “If you keep on skipping Digital Media class I’m not giving you my notes anymore.”

“ _No_ ,” Wonshik says at once, horrified, and Hakyeon gives him one of his patented I’m Not Kidding looks.

“Get your ass to class, my man. And see you around campus, Sanghyuk!”

“Bye,” Sanghyuk calls, waving politely as Hakyeon shrugs his backpack back on and strolls out of the lounge. “He’s got a lot of energy at this hour.”

“Hakyeon has a lot of energy at every hour,” Wonshik corrects, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “It is getting late though... we should probably call it a day.”

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk nods, checking his watch. “My brain is finished, I’ve been reading the same line over and over again for like, ten minutes now.”

The rain had mostly stopped by the time they stumbled out of the student lounge, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature and side-stepping all the puddles on the ground. Wonshik rolls the sleeves of his shirt back down before he nods at Sanghyuk, offering him a smile.

“Good chat,” he says, clasping the younger student’s hand in a friendly manner. Sanghyuk nods in reply, tugging the collar of his jacket up as he steps away. “See you around.”

“Yeah, see you,” Sanghyuk says, and they part ways for the night.

At least, that’s what Wonshik thinks was going to happen, until he’s nearly down the street and has to stop because there’s the sounds of footsteps pounding on the concrete behind him and Sanghyuk is dashing after him, shouting his name.

Wonshik skids to a halt, confusion flooding through him as he waits for Sanghyuk to catch up and recover from what was apparently quite a sprint, if his windswept hair and heavy panting is anything to go by.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Wonshik asks anxiously, and Sanghyuk shakes his head, pushing his bangs out of his face. He straightens, eyes strangely bright, and Wonshik is suddenly struck by Sanghyuk’s height. Which is dumb, because he’s known how tall the kid was since they first met up and Sanghyuk technically isn’t  _that_  much taller than he is, but in this moment— Sanghyuk simply looks big. Not intimidating, or scary, but just someone with a presence.

“I— I was wondering,” Sanghyuk begins hesitantly, rubbing the side of his neck distractedly, “If— if you’re free tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?” Wonshik blinks. “Yeah, my last class ends at noon. What, are you speedy enough to look over all the edits I made today?” he jokes, grinning, but Sanghyuk shakes his head.

“Not for editing,” he says, shifting his weight onto his other foot. “For— a date. I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me. Tomorrow. Night.”

There is a stunned pause on Wonshik’s part, during which the one third of his brain that isn’t literally freaking out is torn between the part that wants to power slide down the sidewalk, shouting  _YES_  at the top of his lungs and the other part that’s clutching his face, screaming  _THIS IS THE WORST TIMING EVER._

Evidently, that’s what Sanghyuk seems to think too, because the nervous expression on his face is quickly morphing into one of embarrassment and disappointment, and the resemblance of that to a kicked puppy is so scarily uncanny that it kicks Wonshik’s brain back into work mode.

“Oh my god,” he stammers, and now it’s apparent that while his head is working again, his mouth clearly isn’t. “That is— that is actually— don’t get me wrong!” Wonshik sputters, waving his hands desperately. “I’d love to go on a date with you, I’m sorry, you just surprised me so much—! But it’s, um, it’s kind of, sort of a little complicated right now—”

“Are you seeing someone else?” Sanghyuk asks, chewing on his lip, and Wonshik shakes his head frantically.

“No,” he admits. “And let me tell you it’s a real pain in the ass being the literal fifth wheel between my friends when they act lovey-dovey with each other. But things are... possibly... complicated,” he finishes, feeling quite dumb. Sanghyuk is starting to look confused.

“So... that’s a no to tomorrow then,” he says slowly, and Wonshik wants to fall to the floor in frustration at his awful explanation skills.

“For the time being,” he assures. “What I’m trying to say is, I would like to go on a date with you. Honestly, I would love to go on a date with you. I’ve sort of wanted to for a while now, believe me.”

“Ah,” Sanghyuk says, and there’s a spark of hope in his eyes that makes Wonshik’s heart both flutter and sink. God, he doesn’t want to ruin things, not when it’s all going so well. Sanghyuk, his smart and creative and funny writer, asked  _him_  out. He was heading back to his dorm, but he turned around and, probably in the most clichéd method ever, ran after Wonshik until he was out of breath to ask. Him. Out.

If that was a scene in a story the whole editorial collective would’ve cringed and ranted about dumb rom coms. But living it out isn’t actually that bad. According to his dumb, lovestruck brain anyway.

“Do you mind if I ask... why not?” Sanghyuk asks, interrupting Wonshik’s wandering train of thought, and awful reality crashes back down on him again.

“It’s—”

“If you say  _complicated_  again—” Sanghyuk interjects, smirking, and Wonshik pretends to huff.

“It’s weird. It’s something I sort of promised I wouldn’t do, a while back.”

“You promised you wouldn’t go out with me?” Sanghyuk asks, confused.

“No! No, that’s not, er, exactly it. Um, do you remember how you looked up old copies of the short story collections and couldn’t find last year’s edition?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a whole story behind  _that_  that basically led to this whole thing where we— the editorial group— basically decided we’d keep everything between us and our writers professional. And going on a date would probably count as ‘not very professional’ in that sense.”

“I see,” Sanghyuk says, even though he looks more lost than ever, and right then, an idea pops into Wonshik’s head that he internally tussles with for a whole two seconds before he blurts out:

“It’s a bit of a long story, but do you want to come to my place for a bit and I’ll tell you about it?”

+

In hindsight, inviting Sanghyuk over was a terrible, terrible idea, because Wonshik had neglected to remember just how long it’s been since he’s properly cleaned his own room, so for the first five minutes of Sanghyuk’s arrival he’s scrambling all over the closet-sized apartment, shoving books and garbage and clothes into any drawer, closet, or cabinet he could possibly find. Sanghyuk laughs when he sees Wonshik dump an armload of clothes into the tub and yank the shower curtain closed behind him, out of breath.

“Trust me, my apartment isn’t any cleaner,” he says, dropping his bag onto the floor. “You have a nice place though.”

“Thanks,” Wonshik says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “The guy lived here before me left a hole in the wall and a mouldy cheese sandwich in the sink before he moved out.”

Sanghyuk wrinkles his nose. “Nasty,” he says. “My roommate is a bit of a slob too, but only with some kinds of meals. If he’s eating chicken nuggets or whatever, that’s fine. But give him rice with sauce or something, some of that’s definitely getting on the ceiling.”

The only thing Wonshik has in his fridge is gatorade and some leftover fruit punch Hongbin didn’t use up in his infamous ‘Tropical Wreck’ (which consists of a terrifying mixture of vodka and peach schnapps and watermelon chunks), but Sanghyuk seemed okay with tap water and chips as he makes himself comfortable on the puffy green carpet on the floor (Wonshik also does not own a sofa).

“Okay,” Wonshik sighs, setting his own mug down. “The story.”

“Finally, it’s your turn to tell me one,” Sanghyuk jokes, popping a chip into his mouth, and Wonshik manages a laugh.

“Yeah, well, this one is just wildly dramatic and kind of terrible,” he says, shaking his head. “So the reason why you couldn’t find a copy of last year’s short stories is because we basically destroyed all of them.”

“What?” Sanghyuk gapes. Whatever he’d been expecting, it had evidently not been this.

“Yup,” Wonshik sighs, wincing internally at the memory. “There was a, uh, problem with the publication, and the reason for that goes all the way back to the start of the story selection process, where my friend Hongbin, one of the editors, was assigned to this one guy whose story was selected. We didn’t think much of it at the time, but it turns out the guy had a bit of a crush or something on Hongbin. Thing is, Hongbin’s been dating one of our other friends, Taekwoon, for a while now.”

“Uh-oh,” Sanghyuk mumbles, chin propped on his hand. He was watching Wonshik intently, clearly curious about the story, and Wonshik’s pretty sure he’s sweating under the collar because oh, he’s a dork with a crush too, and he has no idea what to do with Sanghyuk’s gaze, focused only on him.

“You can probably guess just how well that went. But the guy didn’t know, and Hongbin didn’t catch on to his flirting or whatever, so this poor bastard thought Hongbin agreeing to meet up with him for all these editing sessions at like, cafés and emailing him back and forth and the friendly encouragement was Hongbin flirting back. And then one day, Taekwoon came to one of our group meetings to write something up for an article— he writes for the campus paper— and that guy didn’t take the news... nicely.”

“Okay,” Sanghyuk frowns. “But that’s not your friend’s fault.”

Wonshik shrugs. “He didn’t seem to care. Pitched a fit, and then left. And none of us knew what to do, really, because it was a little too late to throw him out and we were already in the final stages of production before we sent everything off for print, so we just rolled with it. But that just came back to bite us in the ass, because apparently not only did that asshole find one of his pals or whatever to hack our final submission for the printing company and replace it with some messed up version that basically ruined the final print, when we held the book launch, instead of reading his story like he’s supposed to that guy just went up to the microphone and started cussing Hongbin out.”

“What the fuck,” Sanghyuk swears, appropriately so, Wonshik thinks, and his expression scrunches up in disgust. “That’s just gross, what the  _hell_. He’s seriously too full of himself.”

“Fortunately, and probably unfortunately for that jerk’s case, Taekwoon was attending the launch and lost his temper. And while Hakyeon was trying to yank the microphone from the guy and throw him out, Taekwoon just tackled him down and they almost got into a fight. They probably would’ve, actually, but our other editor, Jaehwan, threatened to call campus police, so the asshole just slunk out.”

“The douche deserved it,” Sanghyuk shakes his head. There’s something gratuitous about seeing someone else angry on their behalf.

“He did,” Wonshik agrees. “But he still ruined everything in the end. Even though the turnout was small, there were parents and even a few professors in the audience. Hongbin was embarrassed as hell, Taekwoon was furious, and Hakyeon had to watch everything he’d organized crash around his ears. Basically, it was the shittiest night of our lives, and at the end we couldn’t distribute the new books because none of them printed right. I thought Hakyeon was gonna cry in the theatre. He likes to pretend all the work is a chore for him, but he’s really invested and dedicated. It sucked.”

“I wouldn’t blame him,” Sanghyuk says, fiddling absentmindedly with a thread on the carpet. “That’s definitely something you don’t want a repeat performance of.”

“Yeah,” Wonshik says, and he feels a lump in his throat as he speaks. “Which was why this year, he laid out some ground rules for us, and we all unofficially agreed to do our best to act super professionally to any writers that we edit with after that fiasco. I mean, it’s not like we expected that exact scenario to happen again, but you know. Just in case.”

“Which is why you didn’t want to go out with me tomorrow,” Sanghyuk says, and miraculously, he’s not angry, or even making fun of Wonshik for his dutiful following of the imposed rules. It’s more than what he can hope for, really.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to go on a date with you sometime after the book launch,” Wonshik offers, suddenly feeling ridiculously shy. “If you’d like to. Um. That is.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Sanghyuk grins, leaning forwards ever so slightly as he waggles his eyebrows. “Because I am for sure going to enjoy every second of that promised date after that, god, three week wait.”

“Ugh,” Wonshik says, wincing. Damn, he’s completely forgotten about the copy editing phase, final submissions, and launch party planning stage. “When you put it that way...”

“We’ll have to continue this forbidden romance incognito,” Sanghyuk sighs, pretending to swoon dramatically, almost knocking his glass off the table. “Oh, however will I survive those impending, treacherous days.”

“We’re still gonna have to do some last minute editing, you moron,” Wonshik snorts, smacking Sanghyuk in the leg. “You’re gonna have to put up with more of me bitching about your weak verbs and run-on sentences.”

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy every torturous second of it if it’s you,” Sanghyuk shrugs, and Wonshik opens his mouth, but then closes it, because his stomach has decided that now is a great moment to start doing some kind of swoopy motion at Sanghyuk’s words, and now he looks like an absolute moron as Sanghyuk’s eyes meet his again.

“So, after the launch then?” he asks hopefully, shifting closer, and Wonshik nods, forcing his tongue to untangle itself.

“Yes,” he nods. “Let’s go on a date after the launch.”

The corners of Sanghyuk’s eyes soften as they do the cute half-moon shape again, and if Wonshik had thought he had already fallen flat on his face for Sanghyuk, he’s just discovered that the floor has given away and he’s freefalling into the infinite abyss of adoration.

+

“Things,” Jaehwan announces loudly as he strides into the study room, “Are fantastic right now.”

“Are they? Are they  _really_?” Hakyeon fires back, a slightly wild look in his eye as he whirls around from the whiteboard, the mid-copy editing craze well and truly set in already, but Jaehwan simply skips over and gives Hakyeon a smacking kiss on the lips. Hongbin rolls his eyes and turns back to his assignment, and Wonshik glances between the two over the cup of his fourth coffee.

“Yup! I just got in contact with our graphic designers and received the finalized the layout. Voilà!”

Jaehwan flips a large sheet around with flourish, nearly dropping a stack of other papers in hand, but manages to present the cover of their book all the same. It’s got thin, curvy writing on top, spelling out the title of this year’s collection,  _The Values of Writing in Excelsis_ , and the background consists of a cup of steaming coffee, pretty pens and an open Moleskin journal, faint slanted writing skating across the surface. It’s pleasant and definitely the type of aesthetic they’d been discussing over the last few days.

“Wow,” Hakyeon blinks, touching the image with the tips of his fingers. “It’s... damn, that looks really nice.”

“Right?” Jaehwan enthuses, throwing a happy arm around Hakyeon’s shoulders as he looks between all of them. “It turned out so well— oh, Taekwoonie is here! Come look!”

“No,” Hakyeon protests, but he’s a softie when it comes to Jaehwan and his puppy-like excitement, and even though he’s been kicking Taekwoon out of their quasi-confidential meetings whenever the journalist tags along to see Hongbin, he doesn’t seem to mind that much when Jaehwan bounds over to the new arrival, pressing the paper into his hands.

“Look! The new covers for this year’s book! What do you think?”

Taekwoon takes the sheet, setting his latte down on the tabletop as he scans the page.

“It’s nice,” he says. “That coffee in the back there looks good. A smart addition.”

“Of course that’s all you notice,” Hongbin jokes, finally looking up from his laptop. Taekwoon hands the paper back over to Jaehwan as he steps around their discarded bags, bending down to give Hongbin a kiss on his forehead. Hongbin’s eyes close for a moment, and a blissful smile appears on his face. It’s the first smile Wonshik has seen on his friend all day as Taekwoon gives Hongbin’s shoulders a squeeze.

“Time to go,” he says, and Hongbin nods, leaning over to grab his backpack.

“Class?” Hakyeon asks, looking up from his daily planner as Hongbin stands.

“Yeah,” Hongbin nods, taking Taekwoon’s hand as they slide past the table and towards the door. “I’ll message you guys after dinner or something... I want to finish the conclusion of this essay first.”

“You go do that,” Hakyeon waves him off, a little smile on his face. “It’ll be over soon, Binnie!”

Hongbin’s answer is another giant yawn, and he clasps Wonshik’s hand in a friendly manner before he and Taekwoon duck out of the study room and out onto the first floor of the library, where people were milling about the tables and hopping between the shelves, coffees in hand and stacks of books piled high in their arms.

“Soon,” Hakyeon echoes, looking around at the chaotic mess of schedules, homework, and short stories mixed up all over the table. Wonshik winces and tries to carve out his own little circle of space behind a battered copy of Jaehwan’s Chinese poetics textbook.

“Hey,” Jaehwan says, scooting his chair closer to Hakyeon’s. “I know things look rough and hectic now, but everything is seriously going so well! All of the writers are on task, final copies are coming in on time and we already have our design. All that’s left is to organize each story before sending them off to the publishers, and then it’s the launch party! Last leg!”

Hakyeon manages a nod and a weak smile, twirling his highlighter between his fingers. “What will I do without all this energy from you, Jaehwannie?” he asks, leaning his head onto Jaehwan’s shoulder, and Wonshik glances back down at his homework, a slight smidgen of sadness in his chest. Hakyeon had Jaehwan, and Hongbin had Taekwoon, and then there he was, making Sanghyuk wait. At the same time, there was also a feeling of anxiousness, because he’d promised Hakyeon things would stay professional, but here he was, with a giant crush on one of his writers that actually likes him  _back_.

His phone vibrates suddenly, and Wonshik jumps when he sees Sanghyuk’s name flashing across the screen. He snatches it up, peeking nervously over to Hakyeon and Jaehwan, but the pair were busy shuffling papers and drawing huge arrows all over the place, apparently trying to find the best way to organize the stories. Trading personal numbers with their writers probably wasn’t what Hakyeon had in mind when he set those rules earlier on in the year, and Wonshik didn’t want to launch into that can of worms right now.

_Sanghyuk: hey! I went to the Varsity Lounge to find a table after class but the whole common area’s been roped off for a presentation tonight :( any ideas about where to go?_

_Wonshik: crap. that’s hard, it’s friday night, everywhere else will probably be busy_

_Sanghyuk: yeah... cafés are gonna be noisy too, hmm..._

_Sanghyuk: what about my place?_

Wonshik blinks, and he hesitates for a moment, fingers hovering over his keypad. His phone pings again, just as he starts to type.

_Sanghyuk: if that’s okay with you?_

_Wonshik: no, no, it’s totally fine, I’ll go grab some food before I head over. any requests?_

_Sanghyuk: lol I should be good! I have something in the cupboard. if you want to get drinks though, I’ll owe you back_ —w—

_Wonshik: don’t worry, it’s my treat : ) I’ll see you at 6?_

_Sanghyuk: aw, thanks. i’ll text you my dorm number. see you then!_

He can’t quite hide the little smile that wiggles its way onto his face as he sets his phone down; his heart is jackrabbiting as he thinks about going over to Sanghyuk’s, and when Hakyeon and Jaehwan turn to ask him for his opinion, he tries his best to school his face into something a little less animated as he sets his phone down and leans over the desk to read their mock-up list.

There’s twenty minutes till six when Wonshik finally bows out of the study room, leaving Jaehwan and Hakyeon to hack away at the Foreword and Letter from the Editor. He swings by a quaint little café just off-campus that Taekwoon is partial to, and buys something cool and refreshingly fruity he imagines Sanghyuk might like. There’s a steady stream of students milling in and out of the second-year building, which looks shabby and outdated next to the pristine Forensics labs, but it’s homey and full of warm colours once Wonshik slips in along with a group of girls returning from what sounded like the dullest Management Fundamentals class in academic history.

Sanghyuk lives on the fifth floor, in a shared dorm located halfway down a narrow hallway, and he’s quick to open up the moment Wonshik knocks. Wonshik grins and holds up the tray of drinks in lieu of greeting, and Sanghyuk smiles winningly back in turn, stepping aside and ushering Wonshik in.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he jokes, stepping over an open box of instant noodles in the doorway adjacent to the little kitchenette. He’s wearing a faded old t-shirt and comfy looking track pants, and to Wonshik’s surprise (and delight) the little pink clip he’d loaned Sanghyuk a while back is pinning his bangs up too. “I was cleaning and studying before you came.”

“How’s that working out for you?” Wonshik asks, peering at the open books spread across the table, and Sanghyuk laughs.

“Well, at least the den is neater than it used to be. We can move the printer and the stereo into my roommate’s room if you need more space, he won’t mind.”

“He’s not in?” Wonshik asks, setting the tray down on the table as Sanghyuk moves a laundry basket holding various cereal boxes out of the way.

“Nah, he’s away for a rugby competition. Semi-finals this weekend, and if they win they’ll be away till Monday night.”

“Cool,” Wonshik says, glancing around, and tries not to think too much about being alone with Sanghyuk in his flat. Fortunately, Sanghyuk chooses that exact moment to inquire about the drinks, and Wonshik gratefully catches on to that thread of conversation.

They cram themselves onto the little chairs and talk about the last touch-ups of Sanghyuk’s story in between Wonshik finishing his assignment, which doesn’t take much longer than half an hour. But when Sanghyuk offers to make something to eat for the two of them, Wonshik finds himself loaning his expertise in cooking the perfect pot of three-minute spicy instant noodles while they add some fresh vegetables Sanghyuk managed to unearth from the depths of his fridge into the bubbling pot.

“So you still practice Judo then?” Wonshik asks over the soft gurgling of hot soup, and Sanghyuk nods, eyes focused on the broccoli he’s carefully cutting apart on a fish-shaped cutting board.

“Yeah, but not as often as I used to,” Sanghyuk hums. “And definitely not competitively. My knee can’t take that kind of strain anymore.”

“Do you miss it? Or regret it?” Wonshik tilts his head, and Sanghyuk straightens, complementing the question. His mouth purses up cutely, and Wonshik has to hide a smile as he takes in Sanghyuk’s thoughtful expression.

“In some ways. It certainly didn’t feel the same not going to practice every day and my moves were limited for some time, but it’s not like I stopped training completely. It’s more recreational for me nowadays, if anything. Good way to keep fit, keep my brain a little active, and blow off some steam when I get stressed. You should try it sometime,” he adds, setting the timer and shooting Wonshik a teasing grin. Wonshik flushes, snatching up the last pieces of broccoli before putting the lid back down on the pot.

“I’ll die,” he laughs. “My gym routine is good enough for me. I used to be really into badminton, but I played co-ed doubles and I didn’t get much chance to practice after I moved away for school. And I’ve had the same partner since I was very small, so it didn’t feel the same playing with anyone else. It’s hard to find someone who knows your moves almost before you do, y’know?”

“A close friend then, huh?” Sanghyuk says, and Wonshik chuckles at the badly-disguised probe.

“Very close,” he teases, and smiles wider when Sanghyuk narrows his eyes slightly. “We’re so close, we’re not only like family; we’re  _literally_  family.”

“Eh?”

“I played with my  _sister_ , you dolt,” Wonshik chortles, nudging Sanghyuk with his elbow, and the younger had the grace to look slightly sheepish. “She joined a team on her high school too, so she’s definitely improved and left me behind by now.” He sighs wistfully, turning the knob on the stove until the bubbling slows down to a little simmer.

“Well, is there anything else you like to do?” Sanghyuk asks, sidestepping a little closer, and he grins teasingly when Wonshik’s cheeks redden slightly. “If you want to go a few rounds for badminton, I’m up for it. Probably won’t run a lot, but I’m still game.”

“It doesn’t have to be badminton,” Wonshik snorts. He turns until he’s facing Sanghyuk, and notes how the distance between the two shrink. “I like a lot of other things too.”

“Like what?” Sanghyuk asks, resting his weight against the counter. His eyes are bright, even under the pale florescent light.

“Hmm... movies and concerts are always fun. And writing too, as you might’ve guessed.”

“I still haven’t read anything of yours,” Sanghyuk says, lightly. “Even though you’ve been hacking at mine like nobody’s business.”

“Hey, it’s my job,” Wonshik smirks, and Sanghyuk exhales slowly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’d like to read your stories, someday.”

He’s very close now. Wonshik’s knees are suddenly going weak, and his hands slip from the pockets of his jeans, until they’re resting against his sides. Sanghyuk’s eyes never leave his, and Wonshik swallows. Freefalling, his mind helpfully supplies, and his stomach swoops.

Sanghyuk sucks in a breath, and he finally glances away, biting down hard on his lip, and Wonshik’s heart skips a beat.

“Sorry,” he stammers out, looking momentarily displaced. “I know you said— we said— after the launch, I shouldn’t have—”

But Wonshik isn’t really focused on his words; he sees the way Sanghyuk’s lashes flutter, admires the smooth slope of his nose, and how his broader frame still manages to impressively wide even when he’s slouching. He steps forwards, abolishing the last bit of space between them, and Sanghyuk straightens almost instantly. Wonshik places his hands on either side of Sanghyuk’s face, exhaling shakily, and presses his lips against Sanghyuk’s.

Sanghyuk makes a noise between a moan and a sigh, and he wraps his arms around Wonshik’s waist, squeezing Wonshik close, and Wonshik tilts his head, letting Sanghyuk deepen the kiss as his hands slip downward, until he’s cupping Sanghyuk’s sharp jaw in his palms. Sanghyuk kisses with enthusiasm, which makes it slightly clumsy, but Wonshik figures he’s not faring any better. All he wants right now is to keep on kissing Sanghyuk, even if that means their noses are bumping against each other’s way too often. It’s endearing and he finds that he really, really,  _really_  likes the feeling.

The sudden  _ding!_  of the timer going off startles them into breaking the kiss, but Sanghyuk’s arms stay around Wonshik, and Wonshik’s own hands find comfortable spots on Sanghyuk’s shoulders. Without breaking eye contact, Sanghyuk fumbles behind Wonshik, turning the heat off before placing his palm flat on Wonshik’s lower back, pressing him impossibly closer.

“Was... was that okay?” he breathes, hesitant, and Wonshik manages a wobbly smile.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers in reply, even as his rational side slumps over in defeat, and he has a sudden mental image of Hakyeon assuming the hilarious sulk position whenever someone blatantly ignores him. He shakes the thought from his mind with a quick peck to Sanghyuk’s lips, and grins when the younger tries to chase him for another. “It’s not the end of the world. Really.”

“Okay,” Sanghyuk nods, and Wonshik can see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Because I’m really not that hungry anymore, and I seriously want to kiss you more. And by more, I mean, like, all night.”

Wonshik’s pretty sure his face is on fire by now, but he’s also echoing the same sentiment, and he doesn’t stop Sanghyuk when the other leans forwards to seal their lips together again. Only this time, Sanghyuk’s hand is tracing the bit of bare skin that shows when Wonshik lifts his arms to tangle his fingers into Sanghyuk’s hair, and it feels so, so good. He doesn’t mind when Sanghyuk stumbles away from the kitchen, and the two of them bump their way down the hall, kisses growing more intense and touches becoming bolder the closer they get to what Wonshik assumes is Sanghyuk’s room. He doesn’t mind at all once his own shirt comes off, and Sanghyuk is yanking his own tee over his head before crawling back on the bed, moving smoothly between Wonshik’s spread legs, and letting their lips meet again.

It’s okay, Wonshik thinks, and moans out loud when Sanghyuk bites down on his lower lip. He’ll think about all the complicated stuff later.

+

Unfortunately, he’s a bigger coward than he initially thought.

It’s not like liking Sanghyuk is actually a crime, and their present situation is very different from that of Hongbin and He-Who-Must-Not-Ever-Be-Mentioned-In-Front-Of-Hakyeon-Ever-Again, but Wonshik can’t help it. He doesn’t want to upset Hakyeon, after all the effort Hakyeon’s put into the publication this year. Everybody is working hard, but Hakyeon most of all, and they’re all doing their best to erase last year’s fiasco out of their minds and embracing this year’s launch party with a positive attitude and a fresh start. Hakyeon’s even started making them all ginseng tea for each meeting (some of which have found their way into various potted plants, into sinks, and once poured out of the window of a study room in the Commerce Building they’d snuck into), and things are actually starting to look up. The party’s announcement was posted the day after the book officially went for printing, during which Hakyeon checked in with borderline obsessiveness to ensure it was, indeed, the content they’d wanted to publish. Jaehwan had his hands full with four writers to edit for and an anxious Hakyeon, and Hongbin was getting jumpier nowadays. Taekwoon hovered nearby as often as Hakyeon would allow it, always slightly grumpy because Hakyeon still hadn’t lifted the ban on him showing up at the party.

In between it all, Wonshik couldn’t bring himself to admit to his friend he’s officially broken the biggest rule of the editoral team whilst worrying about his attempts to ‘hide’ what he’s got going on with Sanghyuk. And, predictably, the guilt is driving him nuts.

It strikes him one day, as he’s meeting up with Sanghyuk in the hallway outside his afternoon class, that he’s grown so fond of the younger student in between their little meet ups, at both campus locations, their dorms, or out in town for dinner together before occasionally spending the night at each other’s place. Sanghyuk is handsome and mischievous and daring, but he’s also full of youthful energy and a kind of cuteness that utterly melts Wonshik’s heart. He’s only a year older, but he already wants to dote endlessly on Sanghyuk, who looks incredibly soft and sleepy in his gigantic knit-sweater and a white beanie with the biggest pom-pom Wonshik’s ever seen dangling from the top of the hat. Sanghyuk nods as he flips through the page, backpack hanging off one shoulder and leg bouncing unconciously while he reads.

“I just gotta practice reading the story out loud, right?” he asks, looking up, and Wonshik nods, swallowing the lump in his throat as he meets Sanghyuk’s sleepy, post-lecture gaze.

“Yup. We’ll have a dress rehearsal probably the day before the actual launch, and we’ll tweak any last minute problems before we do the real thing the next day.”

“Okay,” Sanghyuk says, grinning, and he folds the paper up. He gives Wonshik a brief hug, endlessly mindful of their predicament, and steps away a second later. “You have class now, right? I’ll text you.”

Wonshik inclines his head, words stuck in his throat, and Sanghyuk turns away, striding down the hall towards the stairs.

Impulse strikes him then, out of nearly nowhere, and Wonshik is suddenly filled with the need to set things right. It’s only right— he’s the one who broke Hakyeon’s rule, and there’s no reason he has to lie to his friends about it and force the person he likes to keep their affection under wraps like they’re some kind of unspoken secret. He opens his mouth and breaks out into a quick jog, voice echoing slightly in the empty hallway.

“Sanghyuk! Wait!”

Sanghyuk skids to a stop, turning around in surprise at the top of the stairs, and Wonshik comes to a halt right beside him. He takes a deep breath and reaches out to take Sanghyuk’s hand in his.

“Will— will you go out with me?” he asks, and Sanghyuk’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I— well, yes, but—?”

“Forget the whole ‘don’t date’ thing I’ve got going,” Wonshik says, straightening his back. “I really like you, Sanghyuk. I also don’t want to lie to anyone, or— or hide anything. And I definitely don’t want you to think I’m just fooling around with you. Would you— would you be alright with making things... official?”

“Wonshik,” Sanghyuk starts, and he breaks out into a wide grin, one that makes his eyes crinkle and the tiniest dimples appear in his cheeks. He looks beautiful. “You know what my answer is. But is it okay? Considering...?”

“I’ll tell Hakyeon the truth,” Wonshik replies. He doesn’t hesitate this time. “I’m a wimp, really, but he’s my best friend and you’re the person I like, so I’m going to own up to it. Promise.”

He’s not quite ready for the sudden hug Sanghyuk sweeps him up in, strong arms squeezing the breath out of him while Sanghyuk lets out a giddy laugh, face buried into the side of Wonshik’s neck, but he’s prepared for the warm kiss he gets a second later, courtesy of his cute and endearing boyfriend.

Wonshik smiles, feeling delight flooding through him, and kisses right back.

+

And of course, just when he needs Hakyeon the most, the man practically goes MIA. Wonshik doesn’t really blame him; his friend is dashing all over campus getting last minute supplies and giving everyone their schedule. The launch is happening at a large conference room in the Business wing of a one of the campus’ main buildings, which is both spacious, brightly lit, and comfortable to sit in. A prime location for a book launch, assuming everything goes well.

Wonshik skips his evening tutorial the night of the big event to help set up, but even between organizing the tray of refreshments and putting up the book sale table, Hakyeon is so busy talking to five other people at once Wonshik sees no possibility of getting his bit in. It’s only slightly stressful.

“I had to physically wrestle his laptop away from him yesterday night,” Jaehwan whispers matter-of-factly to Wonshik as they mill around the room, straightening up some chairs as the first guests begin to trickle in. Professors, family members and students step into the room, and Wonshik watches as some volunteers Hakyeon’s managed to wrangle into helping out greet the guests. Someone wearing a baseball cap has already made a beeline for the white chocolate macadamia nut cookies amongst the other snacks and the coffee machine.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Jaehwan shrugs, an amused smile on his face as he watches Hakyeon stalk by with a roll of wire, followed by a very lost-looking sound operator.

“I think he deals with his stress with constant motion. He doesn’t do well sitting down and brooding over things.”

“No kidding,” Wonshik laughs, and the two of them grin at each other just as Hongbin walks in through one of the side doors, folding his jacket in his arm with a slightly hassled look on his face.

“Hey there, good-looking,” Jaehwan says, giving Hongbin and appreciative once-over. He’s wearing a brand new shirt, baby blue with the sleeves rolled up, and there’s a cute bowtie poking out of the breastpocket. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” Hongbin says distractedly, stuffing his jacket into his backpack. “Have you guys seen Taekwoon?”

Wonshik exchanges a look with Jaehwan, who mimics his shrug. “No, sorry. What’s wrong?”

“I thought I’d meet up with him just before the launch,” Hongbin sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You know, since he’s still upset he’s not allowed to show up. I was going to find him and surprise him with plans to drive downtown to that jazz club he likes after we finish here, but I couldn’t find him at the apartment or the broadcasting station. He’s not even at the campus paper’s offices, and I can’t get ahold of his phone either. D’you think he’s mad at me?”

“Mad at you?” Wonshik echoes, startled. Hongbin nods, a miserable expression on his face, and Jaehwan immediately pats him on the back.

“Oh, Binnie, you know Taekwoonie can get all grouchy and pouty, but he’d never be angry with  _you_. Heck, he probably just started moping in some computer lab or café and accidentally fell asleep. You know how much he likes his cat naps.”

“He’s only worried,” Wonshik adds, giving Hongbin a friendly nudge. “And being a bit overprotective, but whatever. He’s weirdly charming like that, isn’t he?”

“I guess,” Hongbin says, quirking a smile against his will, and Jaehwan beams.

“That’s the spirit!” he cheers, clapping Hongbin on the shoulder. “Now get backstage and put that lil’ bowtie on, you handsome bastard.”

Hongbin snorts, but gives them a wave as he disappears into the storage room Hakyeon had commandeered for their ‘backstage’. The moment Hongbin is out of sight, Jaehwan rounds on the audience, squinting.

“He’s here.”

“That’s what I was thinking too,” Wonshik nods, holding back a laugh. Really, what should they have expected? “Should we look?”

“I dunno, maybe just keep an eye out, in case Hakyeon notices? Speak of the devil,” Jaehwan sighs, just as Hakyeon pops out of the storage room with the podium and waves over in their direction. “Here, I’ll go help him. You go around and see if you can find Taekwoon.”

“Will do,” Wonshik nods, looking towards the audience. He weaves awkwardly through the chairs, glancing discreetly at different faces and politely greeting various professors that he recognizes from different writing classes. By the time he manages to extract himself from a conversation one of his editing class teachers, the crowd has grown substantially, and he gazes out hopelessly at the sea of faces. It’s an excellent turnout considering their department is a small one, but it’ll make searching a bit more difficult.

Then, Wonshik looks up at the refreshments table, and notices the person with the baseball cap still hovering by the food.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slapping a hand over his face. Hidden in plain sight, he thinks as he climbs the steps two at a time, walks up to the man, and spins him around.

Taekwoon doesn’t even bother pretending to look surprised when he realizes that his cover’s been blown, though that might be because he’s too busy munching on another cookie. Half a tray has gone missing already.

“Don’t tell Hakyeon,” is the first thing Taekwoon says, and Wonshik levels him with a look.

“Okay. Don’t tackle anyone then.”

“I don’t plan to,” Taekwoon replies, looking a grumpy. “There’s no need, I’ve heard that the publishing process went really smoothly this time, so everything will be fine. Besides, I trust that Hongbin can hold his own. He doesn’t need me to step in.”

“Then why are you here?” Wonshik asks, curious. Taekwoon raises an eyebrow.

“To watch Hongbin present. Why else? You didn’t seriously think I only came here to play bodyguard, did you?”

“Well,” Wonshik jokes, and has to duck the swipe at his head. “Kidding! Kidding.”

Taekwoon snorts and lifts the little styrofoam cup of coffee to his lips. He has a thoughtful look on his face when he lowers it.

“Do you know how I met Hongbin? Aside from you guys being Hakyeon’s friends?”

“No?” Wonshik asks, and Taekwoon smiles.

“We took the same writing specialist course together, and I watched him do a dramatic reading of a short story he wrote himself. He’s a really good presenter. I just want to see him do something he likes, because that’s when I’m reminded of the first time I really fell for him.”

“Holy shit, that’s cheesy,” Wonshik says, but he can’t stop the bit of awe that colours his voice. Hongbin’s never mentioned this, and there’s a possibility that he didn’t even know Taekwoon was in his class.

“Shut it, you,” Taekwoon retorts with a roll of his eyes, cheeks bright red. “You should go before you’re late.”

“Crap, you’re right. ‘Kay, don’t make yourself too obvious,” Wonshik warns, and Taekwoon simply raises his coffee before Wonshik hurries down the aisle towards the storage room. He nearly runs headlong into Hakyeon, who latches onto his arm at once.

“Wonshik! Perfect timing, come help me organize these extra programmes and bring them to the front.”

“S-sure,” Wonshik says, leaping for the chance. This is it, he tells himself, steeling his mind. It’s going to be okay. It’s better to be honest than hide secrets that, realistically, isn’t a bad thing. 

“How’s Taekwoon liking the refreshments?” Hakyeon pipes up, and Wonshik chokes on his own spit. Of all the things he’d expected Hakyeon to say, that certainly hadn’t been it.

“Um,” he splutters, at a sudden loss for words, and Hakyeon turns to give Wonshik the dullest look he’s ever seen on his friend. Hakyeon might’ve seriously given up on humanity in that one moment.

“Wonshik, I’m stressed, not an idiot. If Taekwoon seriously thinks a  _baseball cap_  is going to hide his identity from me, that moron’s got another thing coming.”

Wonshik can’t stop the snorting laugh that escapes him, and even Hakyeon cracks a wide smile. “He and Hongbin are nigh inseparable. I didn’t really think he’d listen to me telling him he couldn’t come. And honestly, it’s fine. Life never goes accordingly.”

“Funny you should say that,” Wonshik interjects, throat dry. He coughs, and smoothes his hands over the stack of programmes down on the table. “I, um, I’ve experienced something along those lines too.”

“Yeah?” Hakyeon asks, lifting a brow, and Wonshik nods, feeling stiff.

“I— I’m dating someone,” he blurts out in a rush, and completely overrides Hakyeon before the other could say anything. “And it’s one of the writers. It’s Sanghyuk. I’m sorry, Hakyeon, I know you made up a bunch of rules that we had to follow at the beginning of the editing phase and you did it for the good of the publication, and as your friend I should’ve followed them but I ended up breaking like all of them along the way, and I swear I didn’t mean to but I promise this relationship with Sanghyuk won’t get in way of anything, and I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you—”

“Whoa,” Hakyeon interrupts, holding both hands up, and Wonshik skids to a halt. “Wonshik, holy shit, calm down, what did you think I was going to do to you?”

“Er,” Wonshik says, very off-kilter. “Be upset? Kick me off the team?”

Hakyeon makes a very high-pitched noise, one that resembles a whistling kettle, but he cuts it off very quickly. “Wonshik, you bone-headed moron! I am not going to get angry at you and kick you off the team!”

“You’re not?” Wonshik splutters, and Hakyeon throws his hands up into the air, and Wonshik momentarily worries that after weeks of stress and work, this is the moment that would finally send Hakyeon into an apocalyptic fit.

“Idiots! Simpletons! I’m surrounded by the lot of them!”

“That’s kinda mean,” Wonshik protests weakly, only to yelp when Hakyeon throws him into a headlock.

“My god, Wonshik, how long have you known me? Sure, I’m a stickler for the rules and I can get a little gung-ho about stuff I’m in a leadership position for, but before I’m your editor-in-chief I’m your  _friend_. God, you make it sound like I was gonna banish you into the shadow realm or something.”

“You’re really not?” Wonshik wheezes hopefully, and Hakyeon finally releases him. He’s got a wry smile on his face.

“You know, I’m just really glad you tried to help things go smoothly this year. All those worries you had— I know you care, Wonshik. And I’m thankful for knowing that I can trust you. But like I said before, life never goes accordingly. A freaking meteor could be on its way to hit us right now, and we’d never know, and the show will still have to go on.”

“Even with an impending meteor strike?” Wonshik asks, and Hakyeon nods, mock-solemn.

“Even with an impending meteor. If anything, it’s a welcome arrival, because I have a four-page analysis due tomorrow morning and I’m only five hundred words in. I’m fucked.”

Wonshik winces. “Don’t envy you there.” 

Hakyeon grins widely and gives him a little wave. “Well, congratulations on finally getting rid of your single status. Sanghyuk definitely gets my stamp of approval, so the next logical step is to break it to the others. How does our usual game night potluck sound for that occasional?”

“It sounds great,” Wonshik says, and it feels like someone’s just removed a huge weight off his shoulders. He can’t stop the smile that spreads on his face, especially when he walks out with the stack of programmes and spots Sanghyuk lower his bag into the designated section for readers and editors to occupy. He looks handsome and sharp, donning a light grey sweatervest with a crisp white collar folded over the neckline. His black jeans mould his long legs perfectly, and Wonshik smiles once he draws near, admiring the way Sanghyuk’s swept his hair back with a bit of gel to reveal his forehead.

“Hey,” Sanghyuk says, resting a hand on Wonshik’s waist briefly. “You look nice.”

“Me?” Wonshik laughs. “This was the only clean shirt I had in my wardrobe. You’re the one who looks amazing.”

Sanghyuk smoothes his vest down, chuckling self-consciously. “Thanks,” he replies. “You seem excited— did something happen?”

Wonshik can’t help it; he bobs his head and wishes he could set the papers down, but a verbal confirmation will have to do for now. “I told Hakyeon, and he called me an idiot for overthinking things and believing he’d get upset with me. He says I should invite you to one of our friend’s gathering, so I can introduce you properly to all of them.”

“Did he really?” Sanghyuk asks, eyes widening, and there’s a wonderful kind of joy in his expression that makes Wonshik’s heart flutter warmly. It feels silly now, in retrospect, all the worries he’s had, but he only ever wants to do right by the people he cares about in his life.

And right now, with the unexpected (but delightful) turn of events, this is probably the best ending he could ever hope for.

+

_[Epilogue]_

“So, Taekwoon is the one who likes... coffee? And cats?”

“Yup,” Wonshik nods, smiling to himself as Sanghyuk struggles to tug the zipper of his jacket down. It’s always been a little faulty, and Wonshik would know that, because it’s his jacket and Sanghyuk has already begun stealing clothes from his closet whenever he stays over (in fact, they were walking over from Wonshik’s dorm after spending the night together, wherein Wonshik finally revealed his unfinished clone story to Sanghyuk before he had to stop his boyfriend’s unrestrained gushing over his work with more than a few kisses). He thinks of offering his help, but Sanghyuk looks irresistibly cute pawing at the front like that, so Wonshik sneakily holds himself back.

“And, uh, Hongbin is the one Taekwoon is dating. And he's the same age as you. They collect weird stuff? And Honbin’s the one who keeps the Cleaning Jar?”

“One dollar for every piece of food you drop on his floor,” Wonshik says solemnly. “Crumbs count.”

“Maybe I should come in a hazmat suit then,” Sanghyuk jokes, glancing at the steadily climbing numbers at the top of the elevator.

“During football season, Taekwoon and Jaehwan just pay him in cash upfront,” Wonshik chortles. “And it’s not of the five dollar variety either, because they know they’re bound to cause at least that much of a mess.”

“Right,” Sanghyuk chortles, and the elevator slows its climb as the red numbers finally come to a halt. “Hakyeon I remember, and Jaehwan and him are dating then?”

“The PDA couple,” Wonshik adds as they step out into the hallway. “Well, Taekwoon and Hongbin are too, but they’re less in your face about it. Be prepared for some TMI moments too; Jaehwan’s sense of shame has been missing since first year.”

“You had it bad being the fifth wheel, didn’t you?” Sanghyuk jokes, and laughs loudly when Wonshik elbows him. But then he pulls him back and Sanghyuk automatically leans in to give Wonshik a long, searing kiss in the middle of the damn hallway, so he decides to let the comment slide.

“Thankfully, I’m not anymore,” Wonshik says lightly, and Sanghyuk’s eyes soften.

“Thankfully,” he chuckles, and Wonshik shakes his head fondly before reaching up to undo the zipper for his boyfriend.

It only takes two raps on the door before it flies open, and Hongbin is standing in the doorway of his apartment, grinning at the two of them.

“Finally,” he teases, and sticks his hand out for a shake. “Glad to finally meet you, Sanghyuk.”

“Glad to be here,” Sanghyuk replies, bright, and Wonshik has to hide a sappy smile as he kicks off his shoes in the landing. He can hear the sounds of the television and Hakyeon and Jaehwan’s usual banter long before he leads Sanghyuk in (he still gives the evil-warding gnome a wide berth as they walk past it in the hall).

Hongbin is settling back into his spot on the loveseat beside Taekwoon, who curls an arm around his shoulders once more. Hakyeon and Jaehwan are sitting up on the beanbag chair, holding a bowl of popcorn and arguing loudly over a foul play just called on the screen; they pause long enough to greet Sanghyuk and shake hands with him too.

“I hope you know your baseball rules,” Jaehwan shouts over Hakyeon’s attempts to push his face out of the way. “Because  _some_  people certainly don’t!”

“Pay him no mind,” Hakyeon says savagely, popcorn wobbling precariously in his lap while Hongbin twitches minutely each time. “We’re here to see a real game, Sanghyuk.”

Sanghyuk gives Wonshik a look, one part hesitance but two parts delight, and Wonshik just laughs, taking Sanghyuk’s hand as they fall onto the unoccupied couch.

“Don’t worry,” he says, giving Sanghyuk a peck on the cheek. “You’ll get used to them, and all this. Probably. Heh.”

Sanghyuk’s eyes are twinkling as they meet his.

“For sure,” he answers, smiling in that soft, sweet way Wonshik adores so much. “And y’know— I think I’m gonna like it.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this piece was stuck at 10k for nearly three months and in the span of three hours I added 7k to it. go wild. :-)
> 
> thanks for taking the time to read!


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